The Rains (Untitled #1)

“Without big bro backing you up, you’d better walk away,” Ben called after me. “And you’d better get used to the feeling, too.”


I stopped before the double doors, fists clenched, my heart banging in my chest. Then I turned. I ran at Ben, yelling, and though Eve and Chatterjee stood up, no one could get to me in time.

Unlucky for me.

I tackled Ben from the side, knocking him down. He rolled over, swinging with his elbow and clipping my temple. I smacked into the base of the dry-erase board, and then he was on me, punching me, snapping my head against the floor. Pain flared in my eye.

Chatterjee hurried toward us. I saw his hands clamp Ben’s shoulders, and then Ben whirled and shoved him. Chatterjee fell down hard, his leg braces clattering against the floorboards.

All at once everything stopped.

Ben was still on top of me, his fist drawn back, his other hand tangled in my shirt. Blood trickled from my nose, and I could feel my eye swelling. Dr. Chatterjee rolled to his side and then sat up, wearing a pained expression. His legs stuck out awkwardly before him.

Ben let go of me. “Dr. Chatterjee,” he said. “I didn’t … I’m really sorry.”

He went to help Chatterjee up, but the teacher pulled away from him angrily. “I don’t need your help.”

Chatterjee adjusted his orthotics and pushed himself carefully onto his feet. Straightening his grimy shirt, he limped back to the bleachers.

Eve rushed up to me. “Chance, your eye—”

I ran across the gym and shoved through the double doors. I stormed through the corridors, heading for the math-and-science wing. In Mrs. Wolfgram’s room, I found Patrick and Alex sitting on a raft of desks shoved together, keeping watch over the back fields. Cassius lay curled up on the floor, traitorously content.

I couldn’t keep the rage from my voice. “Where were you?”

Patrick took one look at my face and stood up. “Who did that?”

“Ben. And he shoved Dr. Chatterjee over, and you weren’t there.”

Patrick went to check me, and I pushed him away, knocking off his cowboy hat.

“You weren’t there. You weren’t there. You weren’t there.” My face was hot, and then I was crying.

Patrick hugged me like he had the night Mom and Dad died. “You’re gonna be all right without me.”

I pulled back and wiped at my face. “No,” I said. “I’m not. No one is.”

I walked out. I went to my old desk in Mr. Tomasi’s room and sat there and pretended that everything was like it used to be. Patrick and I would drive home from school soon and do our chores, and the dogs would be waiting for me. We’d help Uncle Jim with the cattle and Sue-Anne would have a hot dinner on the table for us, and then I’d go to sleep in the room I shared with Patrick, and we would both wake up and go to school again, and I’d sit here at this very desk and talk about books and heroes and imaginary worlds.

Sitting at my old desk, I watched the sun lower beneath the horizon. Shadows lengthened, creeping across my desk, my hands, my arms, until darkness claimed the whole room, the whole world.

Four hours till Patrick died.

I squeezed my eyes shut, because there was nothing out there that I wanted to see anyways. I knew that Patrick and Alex were combing the school looking for me, but I didn’t care. In a few minutes, I’d get up and spend my brother’s last hours with him. But right now I had to be with myself and get ready to say good-bye to him.

Three hours.

Now two.

One.

Still I couldn’t rise. I couldn’t face Patrick any more than I could face the world without him.

Again I thought of that private conversation I’d overheard between him and Alex in the picnic area.

Let’s spend it the best way we can.

There has to be something.

I could stop breathing, but that probably wouldn’t help me much either.

The first part stuck in my mind: I could stop breathing. An idea was there just beneath the surface, glittering like a half-buried jewel.

It sailed through the jumble of my thoughts, and I grabbed it. My eyes flew open.

I knew how to save Patrick.





ENTRY 24

I barreled up the empty corridor, my footsteps echoing off the lockers. Skidding on the tile, I swung onto the stairs and took them down three at a time. I shouldered into the nurse’s office so hard that the door flew back and clipped my hip.

Some of the cabinets and drawers were open, most of the basic medical supplies already moved to the supply station.

But I wasn’t looking for basic medical supplies.

I searched the remaining cabinets, dug through the closet. My swollen eye started throbbing, but I paid it no mind.

Twenty-three minutes.

Twenty-two.

Panic clenched my chest when I didn’t see it. What if it was gone? What if it had been used up already or Chet’s mother had taken it back home?

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